Day 4 for “31 Days of December Peace” ~ Lord, Make Us Thankful

December 4, 2017 By Stanton Lanier Leave a Comment

Click above to listen to Thanksgiving as you read, from December Peace (Best Holiday Album, ZMR Awards). If you enjoy, consider sampling and ordering the CD, MP3 Album or sheet music. You can also listen on Spotify, Pandora Holiday Channel, Apple Music and all other digital streaming services.

This story is from 31 Days of December Peace (soft cover or PDF eBook). Also available from Amazon Kindle, iTunes, and other e-Readers.

Where could you use some “December Peace” today?

Frank Stanton Bondurant was his name. My mom called him “Daddy,” but to his grandsons he was known as “Daddy B.” He was born in 1905 and died in 2002, just shy of his 97th birthday. As I reflect on his influence in my life, I am amazed at how many lasting impressions he made. He was quite a storyteller.

Daddy B was an only child. His parents both died before their 42nd birthday, so he didn’t think he would live past that age. They both played piano, but he was a gifted violinist. He played high school football when there were no face masks, just a thin leather helmet. He broke both eyebrow bones and both collar bones. He loved to play games and tell jokes. If you said, “Please pass the cereal,” he would throw you the box! He introduced me to fig preserves and Mama B’s blackberry cobbler. He threw baseball with me for hours when I was a Little League pitcher, teaching me how to grip the threads to throw a curve ball, drop ball, fast ball and slider. He played his violin with me when I was playing piano in middle and high school (that’s us in the photo when I was thirteen). When I learned to drive he always reminded me that if an animal ever ran in front of me that I should “go through it,” and not swerve to miss it. He had wrecked his car one time avoiding a dog. His advice probably saved my family’s life when I hit a deer in June 2002 driving sixty miles per hour. I went through it. Incredibly, we were on the way to Daddy B.’s funeral when this happened.

“Lord, make us thankful for these and all our blessings. Pardon our sins for Christ’s sake. Amen.” This was Daddy B’s prayer before every meal whenever we saw him. These are only a few of my memories of this beloved man of character, passion and faith. I loved Daddy B. I will always remember the blessing he was in my life.

Who is your Daddy B? Can you be a “Daddy B” for someone?

Day 3 for “31 Days of December Peace” ~ The Glow of Giving

December 3, 2017 By Stanton Lanier Leave a Comment

Click above to listen to Little Drummer Boy as you read, from December Peace (Best Holiday Album, ZMR Awards). If you enjoy, consider sampling and ordering the CD, MP3 Album or sheet music. You can also listen on Spotify, Pandora Holiday Channel, Apple Music and all other digital streaming services.

This story is from 31 Days of December Peace (soft cover or PDF eBook). Also available from Amazon Kindle, iTunes, and other e-Readers.

Where could you use some “December Peace” today?

“For it is in the giving that we receive.” – St. Francis of Assisi

In 1991 we lived in a tiny apartment in Hoboken, New Jersey. Early that December we had a window leak, so a handyman and I spent the better part of a week together in our small living room. Near the end of the week I asked him if he knew of anyone going through a tough time who had young children, because I wanted to help out with buying Christmas gifts. He was quiet for a few moments and then said, “Is it too bold of me to ask for this gift… I have four kids and it’s been a rough year.”

His joyful spirit never gave a hint of his struggles. I was so excited to help his family. He gave me the ages of his kids, their interests, and their special Santa requests. We agreed that I would give him the wrapping paper so he and his wife could have the joy of giving the gifts. It was a tearful moment for both of us.
When he came back the next week to pick up the toys, he burst out crying while he bear hugged me. We both cried tears of joy and gratitude. I will never forget the depth of emotion we shared.His story may stop there…. his 1991 Christmas miracle. My story doesn’t.

I basked in the glow of giving all year that year. I couldn’t wait to do it again and feel the warmth of giving the following Christmas. We found another family in a rough spot and my husband and I agreed to meet the father with wrapping paper and unwrapped toys so he, too, could have the joy and ownership of wrapping his children’s gifts.

As we knocked on his door, we had Christmas in our hearts and anticipation of being wrapped in the warmth of gratitude. The door opened wide to a family young and old. Without any pleasantries, they swiftly grabbed the gift bags, nodded, and slammed the door in our faces.

We stood there in shock with the closed door inches from our noses. Slowly we turned to each other and started to chuckle in total disbelief at the speed of the exchange. We walked back to the car shaking our heads trying to parse together what had just happened.

I am grateful for the juxtaposition of these Christmases. This quick exchange taught me a greater lesson than the warmth of the first. Didn’t Jesus heal ten lepers, and only one came back to give thanks? (Luke 17:15-16). Lack of gratitude didn’t stop Jesus from giving and it wasn’t going to stop me.

Give, give, and give as Jesus did with no expectations. The warmth of the bear hug and tears shared in 1991 is enough to sustain me forever.

Day 2 for “31 Days of December Peace” ~ The Soundtrack of Peace

December 2, 2017 By Stanton Lanier Leave a Comment

Click above to listen to Awaken the Dawn as you read, from December Peace (Best Holiday Album, ZMR Awards). If you enjoy, consider sampling and ordering the CD, MP3 Album or sheet music. You can also listen on Spotify, Pandora Holiday Channel, Apple Music and all other digital streaming services.

This story is from 31 Days of December Peace (soft cover or PDF eBook). Also available from Amazon Kindle, iTunes, and other e-Readers.

Where could you use some “December Peace” today?

As a writer, I use music to wash over me, creating moods and an environment that fuels creativity. When I wrote the Left Behind: The Kids series with Jerry Jenkins and Dr. Tim LaHaye, Hans Zimmer and Danny Elfman felt like friends. Writing Almost Heaven was an exercise in mandolins and guitars and bluegrass.

There is a soundtrack to our lives, our stories, as real as those we hear in films. It’s up to us to listen. We can drown the notes with other pursuits, other music that crowds it out, but it is there, running through our lives every day.

At this busy, hustle-bustle time of year, the Good News is all around us, but you have to listen carefully to hear the soundtrack over the 24 hour news cycle. If you lean even closer, you can hear that same soundtrack running through your own life.

I choose to rest in a sovereign God who made everything seen and unseen. I choose to believe there is more going on than I understand. Looking back, I see the intricately woven story of redemption as the soundtrack playing behind the man and woman choosing to eat. I hear the minor chords as men sell their brother into slavery and watch that evil become their salvation. When all seems lost, the waters part and a path is hewn where none existed. Promised Land ahead, people stumble over their wayward hearts as prophets, priests, and kings rise and fall. A Wonderful Counselor is promised. A Mighty God will appear. A Suffering Servant.

Sometimes I think the soundtrack of my life is the B side of an old garage sale reject. It’s haphazard and scratched and almost unintelligible. I envision God watching human history and shaking his head. Then, with a snap, he awakens with the spark of an idea. A way to redeem he hadn’t considered.

God is not like this.

The cross was not his fallback plan. God chose the manger that cradled the infant head of his Son. Every bit of straw, every animal in that dirty cave, every shepherd that came running, every angel that sang his song was chosen. Every footstep toward Golgotha, each nail, each thorn on the crown. Every Roman guard pressed into service. The tomb that couldn’t hold him. The stone that rolled away.

And you.

The sovereign God who made you wants you to hear this soundtrack, not to figure out how he scored the music. This is not a musical puzzle. He asks you to surrender to his music. He is playing the notes behind the pain and struggle of your life. You can participate. You can fight against him or abandon yourself to the ebb and flow that began creation’s song.

The soundtrack of peace is the love of God. This crimson melody runs through history’s landscape and the crags of your life.

May the music haunt you today and give you peace. May you hear the soundtrack gently leading you toward hope.